Tactics
by Psychotic Tanuki
Summary: Makimachi Misao had no idea when Takani Megumi suggested that they be partners in crime, that it meant she'd have to learn to look like it too. Chapter 2: SESSIONS WITH A FOX MONSTER KxK, AxM, SxM
1. The Lights of Tokyo

Tactics

By: Psychotic Tanuki

Chapter One: The Lights of Tokyo

                Makimachi Misao loved the bright lights of Ginza District, Tokyo. The bright baby blues, hot pinks, yellows, oranges and any other highlighter worthy colors attacked her eyes and the loud, noisy chatter of Tokyo dialect invaded her ears. Misao grinned cheekily and shifted her denim blue duffel bag on her shoulder. With the Aoiya's bankruptcy in Kyoto, and Jiya's recent death—it only seemed natural for Misao to pick up her things and leave for the prosperous capital city of Japan. 

                Holding her head up high, Misao marched through the streets, ignoring the stares of prissy business men, whores, greasy haired yakuza members and the general populace. She was aware of her scruffy clothing and unkempt appearance. With all the mishaps in her life, Misao found that she hadn't had the appropriate time to take care of appearances. Her waist length, bluish black hair for example, was in a state of tangled disarray. Despite her feeble attempt to tie it in a ponytail at the nape of her neck, it had a ratty appearance as random strands stuck up in different places and straw-like knots were clearly visible. Her shoes were an old pair of sneakers that desperately needed to be replaced. The sneakers were scraped until the tips of her dirty socks poked through the front of the shoe and the soles were almost worn through. Her long, lanky legs were shrouded in tattered jeans with gaping holes at the knees and her white shirt had turned into a dingy off white color. More or less, she looked more like a long haired hippie boy in dire need of a shower—which wasn't too far from the truth.

                Wiping the sweat off of her skin, she paused in the streets. She had 50000 yen with her, and that would not last a week in the ever expensive Tokyo, hell it would barely last her two days. She had absolutely no intention of becoming a homeless beggar in the streets and was seeking to double her funds. Of course, she had no time to get a job—which only paid every two weeks, she was _not_ going to beg and she most definitely was not going to steal from innocent people. Thus, the fastest way to win or lose money was to gamble. She needed money, and lots of it. And she needed it fast—it was the only way to be able to find a certain Shinomori Aoshi. Henceforth, this was the reason why Misao was in the Ginza district, which was littered with casinos and nightclubs alike. 

                Dark green eyes narrowed in frustration; she was in dire financial need. She would _have to win whatever games she played but the odds of that happening were very few—but she'd have to risk that anyway. Warily, she eyed the specially marked yakuza clubs and casinos, and quietly inched away. Grimacing at the heat, she wiped her soaked forehead, a dark, grungy teahouse catching her attention. Misao fought to keep her jaw from dropping to the ground as she read the teahouse's name—The Beshimi. It had to be more than mere coincidence that this teahouse was named after her childhood mentor—it had to be a sign from the gods. _

                Palms sweaty, Misao stalked into the whore infested drunkard's paradise. As soon as she stepped into the teahouse, she noticed its freaky cleanliness despite its shoddy rundown appearance. No one seemed to have noticed her entrance, and she was all the more thankful. It was a strange place, the sounds of drunken laughter, loud talking, twittering whores and the clinking of beer bottles invaded Misao's ears. The air stank of cigarette smoke, booze and sex, and Misao cringed. Quickly, she scanned the room. The people were sparsely distributed, and many tables were left empty until she noticed a quiet group of card players—obviously engaged in a game of black jack-- sitting in the back. Clutching tightly to her duffel bag, she headed toward the card players. She smiled—she had always been able to outwit Aoshi-sama at poker. Steeling herself, she sauntered to the small group of three card players, a confident smile on her face.

                "Can I join?" The establishment had an eerie effect going for them; the whole teahouse was bathed in dark blue light. The light also happened to tint the skin a bluish color, and Misao felt as if she were on a distant planet instead of earth. This was most clearly apparent as she smiled at the dealer of the table—a man with dark flowing hair and dark piercing eyes. He wore a dark headband of sorts and vaguely reminded her of Raiha—her favorite character from the Flame of Recca manga she had read a few years back.

                "Sure, entering price is 50 yen." Stuffing a hand down her pocket, Misao tossed a fifty yen piece onto the table and sat down in the extra chair. The dealer stared at her with a stony face as he placed two cards in front of her and Misao found herself wishing she could see what he looked like without the blue light distorting all color. 

                "Hit me dealer boy." A rich alto voice interrupted Misao's thoughts. She carefully eyed the woman sitting next to her, and found it hard not to stare. Even in the blue light, she was obviously beautiful with long, dark hair and dark, glittering eyes. Her face was most pleasing; as she had a prominent nose accented by high cheekbones and lightly upturned lips. She was adorning a classy black blouse and pants, with a Chinese silk-like belt decorated with flowers hanging stylishly off her hip. She couldn't really tell the color of the belt, as like everything else in the room, it had been tinted a deep blue. Misao found herself jealous of her feminine looks and felt even more conscious of scruffiness.

                "Hey weasel boy, hit or stay?" She had a six and an ace, which gave her a total of seven. Forgetting to get angry at the insult, her throat felt dry.

                "Hit me." A jack—she had a total score of 17 out of a possible 21. This was good, and she'd stay with the seventeen.

                "I'll stay." A slightly nasal, but masculine voice declared and Misao found herself to be surrounded by beautiful people. While the dealer and woman were beautiful in a dark, mysterious way, the man next to her was clearly beautiful in a feminine way. His hair was tinted a light blue, and she figured he had to have almost white hair for it to look that way. His eyes were shrouded by John Lennon like glasses, and he seemed to radiate pale unearthly beauty as his skin and obviously white suit reflected a blue sheen. 

                "Alrighty then, show your cards." Misao gagged—the dealer had a score of twenty, the woman a score of twenty one and the man, a score of nineteen. All of them had higher scores than her, and the woman had actually won—what rotten luck. Still, it couldn't be mere coincidence that she landed here at the Beshimi, so she bit her lip and fished out some more yen to bet. She'd make her fortune yet.

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                _Well, Misao frowned, __that was a complete waste of time and money. She had stayed in the grungy tea house for nearly two hours and her money had dwindled down from 50000 yen to a mere 25000—__half of what she started out with. Shifting her bag on her shoulder, she huffed her way out of the room. She had barely enough to cover expenses at a cheap motel and breakfast, and then she was broke. _

                "Stupid, stupid…GOD, you're so STUPID." Halfway through the first hour, the woman had left, claiming that she needed to get home before her husband found out she was gambling. Misao had crinkled her nose in disgust but kept her mouth shut. The lady took her winnings and for the next hour and a half—the pale, white haired man had won every single round until Misao left the table in a frustrated huff. How the hell did he keep winning like that? He couldn't have been cheating—there were only so many aces, tens, jacks, queens and kings in a deck before the dealer would shuffle. 

                Misao groaned as her stomach rumbled. She hadn't eaten dinner—but her squandering money supply could only support motel expenses and breakfast. 

                Screw breakfast—she was eating dinner. She'd starve in the morning. Dragging her heavy feet, Misao trudged towards the quaint, but cheap restaurant she had eaten lunch in—a sukiyaki place called the Akabeko on the outskirts of residential Tokyo. That was still a good way from Ginza District and begrudgingly she walked into the subway station.  It was 10:15; the subways would be running for another hour or so.

The subway ride was a blur and forty-five minutes later, Misao found herself in front of the place that would serve her dinner. Her stomach growled with hunger and she dragged herself into the almost empty restaurant.

                "Welcome, can I help you? Oh you're the young man from this afternoon—you must be hungry—I'll get you some nice hot sukiyaki." The waitress rambled on and on, but Misao didn't pay attention as she buried her face into her hands. That was the millionth time today someone had called her a boy—she should've been more insulted, but she was just too tired to care anymore. 

                "—made a killing today playing black jack with Katsu; poor fool doesn't know he just got hustled." Misao froze—she recognized that voice. Peering through her fingers, she found herself sitting in a booth across from a young woman with long black hair tied in a ponytail with a blue ribbon. Misao didn't recognize her—but that voice was oddly familiar. She perked an ear and continued to watch from between her fingers.

                "Hmm it seems that there would be lots of suckers at the Beshimi. I should try going there sometime." The ponytail-ed girl commented and Misao paused; her voice was different. She shook her head, she was imagining things. 

                _Plunk. Misao smiled feebly as the waitress shot her a strange look. Dunking her spoon into the beef pot stew, she quickly gobbled down the delicious food. _

                "Che, Tanuki—you're hardly the type of person to hustle poor drunkards. You know you like it in the casinos, after all Mikagami Naoko's legacy was meant to be spread outside of sleazy tea houses." Misao's spoon froze in mid-air, the stew dribbling back into the bowl. Where had she heard that voice before? 

                _"Hit me dealer boy."_

                Her spoon clattered into her bowl. It was that woman! She was a hustler?! Misao shook with rage, her precious yen were stolen by some greedy, selfish bitch and she wanted it back. How could she have _ever_ thought that she was a beautiful woman? Delirious from hunger and fatigue, she plunged a hand into her duffel bag and pulled out her most prized set of kunai—Aoshi had given them to her. She was going to get her money back, and if it meant threatening someone, she would. If it meant _killing someone she would. Nothing was going to get in the way of finding Aoshi—not poverty, not starving hunger, not homelessness, and most certainly not some bitch who stole other people's yen! Misao stuck a kunai between each of her fingers, and began thinking of cool poses and or phrases that she could use to stun that hustling maniac into submission._

                "So why'd you leave early?" 

                "I left before I got hustled by this white-haired guy—this weasel boy stayed though. Fool, with the way that white haired man was playing, he didn't stand a chance. I almost felt bad." 

                "That good?" The pony tailed girl's eyes widened in shock and Misao froze—she had been hustled by the white haired man too? _How could I have ever thought he was hot?_

                "Yeah, he kept winning. If I didn't leave I would've lost quite a bit. I already lost 3000 yen to him out of the 15000 yen I had won from Katsu." 

                "That's bad news…Crap—its eleven thirty, I'll see you tomorrow." The ponytail-ed girl waved and dashed out of the restaurant. 

                "Take care Tanuki." Misao stood abruptly, her appetite gone.

                "Could I have this wrapped?" Misao snarled to a timid little waitress, a pang of guilt tugged at her heart for the frightened look on the girls face, but pushed it out of her mind. She was going to kill that white haired man when she found him, and then demand her money back, but first…

                "Hey you, you stole my money and I want it back!" the startled hustler woman turned to face a superhero like Misao, eyes widening in surprise. 

"You heard me, now give me my money!" _Well…scratch the cool phrases…at least I got some cool poses._ Misao had propped her right leg on the table of the fifties style sukiyaki restaurant, and her right arm posed right in front of the woman's face while her left arm was held at a farther distance.

                "Well if it isn't the weasel boy. I guess you've figured out that you were…hustled?" Misao rolled her eyes and gripped her kunai harder.      

                "No _duh. I want my money back you gold digging money grubber!" _

                "No can do weasel boy."

                "I'm a freaking girl," Misao plunked her kunai into the wall, barely missing the woman's head, "and I challenge you to a fair game to win my money back!" 

                "I have a better idea." The woman's brown eyes held an amused glint and Misao snarled.

                "And what would that be genius?" 

                "I'm Takani Megumi, weasel girl. How would you like to be my partner in crime?" 

                _What the hell?_

AN: -_________________-;; I must be on crack to have written this. Anyway, review and let me know if I should continue or quit while I'm ahead. I know I'm supposed to do In the Shadow of the Vampire and Insecure…and rest assured…I will continue those. I'm having too much fun not to. 

Sessha did her research and the Ginza district is supposedly the 'entertainment' district of Tokyo, with neon lights, pachinko machines, whores, night clubs, smoking men and bad fifties style haircuts. I don't know…I got that from a website—if any of its wrong let me know.

Asked my dad about yen to American dollar conversions since he's a businessman and all, and he said it was about 118 dollars per yen. Huh, those big yen figures don't look so big now do they? Yes, feel bad for Misao, feel very bad for Misao. Once again, if my dad's freaked up the conversions let me know. 

This fic was inspired on one chapter of the Cowboy Bebop manga that just stuck in my head. I know absolutely nothing about hustling other than that of what I've researched, have done on my own (^__^;; if you've played cards with me, then all I have to say is "No…of course I didn't hustle you when we were playing cards the other day…")  and what my friends have told me. If you are a hustler, or have hustled someone, please—let me know and tell me nice tips to help me write a decent, realistic fiction.  (Even failed attempts are welcome) Card tricks in shuffling, or just plain cool moves are appreciated as well—what I mean is if you know how to do them, briefly describe how. 


	2. Sessions With a Fox Monster

Tactics

By: Psychotic Tanuki

Chapter Two: Sessions with the Fox Monster

            Misao stared at the ceiling in her cubicle like motel room with her left arm under her head and her right hand holding an address written on a piece of paper.

            _"I'm Takani Megumi. How would you like to be my partner in crime?"_

            Misao carefully turned over. It was times like these, she was really thankful that she wasn't very claustrophobic. These motel rooms had been stacked on top of each other in a morgue like fashion. She could hardly call them rooms, _coffins were more like it. In other words, she felt like she was inside a torpedo chamber and she was the torpedo. It wasn't far from the truth either. Her funds were close to none, and she would probably be able to stay here for only a few more days—three at the most, and that was only if she could mooch food off of somebody. Tired green eyes stared at the wall of the coffin room and she stared at the address again. _

            _Misao watched disdainfully as Megumi pushed aside Misao's arm, whipped out a pen and scribbled something on the paper placemat of the Akabeko. She gracefully ripped off a corner and handed it to Misao. _

_            "I'll be there all day tomorrow. If you're interested show up sometime—I would if I were you. On a good night you can make 50000 to 80000 yen from a few suckers." _

            Normally, Misao would have scoffed, held her head high, preached a bit in a suave speech about her morals and huffed out of there. She would've too! Takani Megumi just pushed her buttons as she spoke in that calm, taunting tone of voice, the traces of a smirk gracing her face. However…the figures had spoken to her, 50000-80000 yen a _night_? Multiply that by seven days a week, or three-hundred-and-sixty-five days a year, she could very well find Aoshi in a few months. 

            There in lay her problem. Discard all morals that had ever been taught to her by Jiya and Aoshi-sama and find Aoshi-sama in a few short months, or starve in poverty, find Aoshi-sama in a few years and keep all morals. Find Aoshi now and repent for her sins later, or find Aoshi later but skip the repenting part altogether. Sleep under a roof or sleep in the streets? Misao groaned in frustration as her pride and honor refused to let her walk the path of evil and temptation. _Just do it, as long as you find Aoshi-sama, that's all that matters!_

            "But it's what he'll say later on that's important!!!" Misao began to sit up before painfully knocking an oily forehead on the extremely shallow ceiling of her coffin box room. Wiping her hand across her forehead she grimaced at her skin's nasty state of disgustingness and felt her hair. It was a disgusting state of knotted greasiness as strands of hair stuck together without the aid of gel. 

            "Oh gross--!" Misao's face scrunched in disapproval. She sniffed her armpits and gagged. It smelt worse than Hyottoko old socks, and those smelt like old corn chips that'd been mixed with a noxious gas from eating too many beans. 

            Find Aoshi-sama now and be clean or find Aoshi-sama later and be a filthy pig. Misao slid out of her 'coffin' grabbed her duffel bag, tossed money to skinny old motel owner—who to Misao's dismay was holding her nose with prim manicured nails—and looked at the address in her hands. She had absolutely no money left—whatsoever. Misao shrugged absent mindedly as she ran towards the subway station, inwardly apologizing to the unfortunate soul who would have to stand next to her. If this _Takani Megumi_ wanted her to be a partner in crime—she could feed her, clothe her, offer a shower and offer a place to crash for a couple of days. 

-------------

            The security officer, _Seta Soujiro_, had been very reluctant in letting her into the apartment building. Misao really didn't blame him. Her breath stank when she talked to him, her hair looked like it was infested with lice (it wasn't—she'd checked many, many times), and it looked like she hadn't showered in years, even though it was actually closer to three weeks. The poor fellow had smiled the entire time too, obviously trying to not be impolite. In the end, her stench and the threat of her opening her mouth had persuaded him to let the matter drop and she'd happily bounded up the stairs. She'd scarfed down her leftover sukiyaki cold on the subway in minutes and her stomach was still hungry. Eagerly, Misao rapped on Megumi's door cheerfully and smiled brightly as she heard the older woman yell that she'd be there in a minute.

            "Hello--Oh my god—what did you _do?_ Sleep in a _sewer?" Megumi made no effort to hide her disgust as she let the younger girl into her apartment. Misao pushed her way past before letting her denim duffel bag fall off her shoulders and hit the polished hardwood floor. She slipped her feet out of her old sneakers and the stench permeated her nose before she looked around. It was a tiny studio apartment—barely large enough for a desk, a couch, a bed, a small bathroom and a kitchen. Misao guessed that it was a student's apartment, and marveled at its cleanliness. Everything was orderly and in place, the walls were a very clean white color which contrasted with the black leather couch and dark blue bed sheets. _

            "I _was planning on teaching you the ropes immediately, but I _insist_ that you __shower. Don't worry, I'll provide clean clothing and food afterwards. Just…shower…" Misao grinned cheekily and followed the older woman as she walked into the very feminine bathroom and shoved a towel after Misao and shut the bathroom door._

            Misao looked around at the tiny, but beautiful bathroom. It had marble flooring and walls. To her left was a huge wall-sized mirror above a cream colored counter built in with a sink and cabinets. In front of her was an equally cream colored toilet with a pretty towel hanging over it. To her right were light green shower curtains decorated with white foxes and a porcelain white bathtub. What fascinated Misao about the bathroom were not the things _in the bathroom, but rather the space they were crammed into. Standing in the bathroom, she had about six inches of personal space before hitting the toilet, the side of the bathtub or a cabinet. How was it that a professional hustler was not living in a pent house type of establishment? Misao scratched her head…this was a simple, tiny home. Had Megumi deceived her with the figures that she could earn?_

            "I don't hear water running!" Misao winced before stripping herself of her nasty socks, and clothing before she untied her hair. Holding her hair tie in her hand, she grimaced at the long inky strands of hair that had clung to the black hair tie and she tossed it into the garbage. Turning on the water, Misao reveled in the invention that was hot water, soap and shampoo. 

            Meanwhile, Megumi had known that the weasel girl—whose name she had yet to learn—would show up. How she could've overlooked the fact that she was unshowered and smelly was beyond her skills of perception. Perhaps the blue light of the Beshimi and the dim lighting of the Akabeko had somewhat _hidden_ that atrocious look—but that still didn't account for the _smell. Megumi shook her clean showered head. She was doing that girl a HUGE favor._

            The duffel bag had probably been the cleanest thing that the girl had brought with her. Megumi stared disdainfully at the beaten up pair of sneakers, whose front had been worn through and the soles wearing increasingly thin. Sifting a hand through her hair, Megumi refused to touch those _things_. She stared at the mud-caked, grass stained, and charred sneakers and opened the closet door. Pulling out a broom, she furrowed her eyebrows in concentration as she tried to lift the sneakers up using the other end of the broom stick. 

            Once upon a time, Megumi mused, they had been a pair of gleaming white sneakers. They were probably leather sneakers too. Upon closer inspection, the older woman realized that they were actually a very expensive sneaker brand, _imported Nike sneakers from __America__ to be exact. How the hell did a homeless girl afford _imported sneakers_? Either she had stolen them, or she had been well off before her __current condition. It didn't make sense. Furrowing her eyebrows, Megumi looked at the denim duffel bag—if it really was a duffel bag. _

            Taking the bag into her hands, she looked for a brand name, but was unable to find one. Instead, she had found a faded white logo of a high school in Kyoto. In fact, it was _Amakusa__High School__, the best private high school in __Kyoto run by Shogo Amakusa and his sister Magdaria. Megumi sighed—she had a formerly well to do girl turned homeless taking a shower in her bathroom. Never mind that, she was from Kyoto and now she was in Tokyo, and barely even out of high school, if she had even graduated from High School yet. _

            Scrunching her nose in disgust, Megumi decided generously that the weasel girl could keep her duffel bag—but the sneakers had to _go._ She opened the door, walked down the hallway and happily dumped the sneakers into the garbage chute. Upon reentering her apartment, she grabbed some clean clothes and underwear. If the girl hadn't showered in _that long, she probably had worn the same __clothes for that long. How the hell…? Megumi shook her head—she didn't want to know. _

            Gripping the fallen broom, she poked open the bathroom door, where weasel girl's clothes lay on top of her pristine toilet seat cover. Through her deft dexterity of hands and skillful ingenuity, Megumi was able to secure the dirty clothes and underwear onto the broomstick and proceeded to dump them into her hamper. They could be salvaged. She tossed clean clothing into the bathroom and hurried to cook some food. 

            The weasel had worn a ravenously hungry look on her face when she'd walked into Megumi's apartment. Megumi had a bad feeling that she'd be eaten out of house and home today—and wondered what she had gotten herself into. Megumi cringed—she hoped the weasel girl wouldn't use all of her toiletries. 

            For the time being, Misao gleefully considered using massive amounts of Megumi's expensive shampoo and conditioner to…salvage the wreck that she called hair. She had already eagerly scrubbed the dirt, sweat and grime off of her skin and washed her face while she was at it. A nice hot shower was a nice thing. She reminded herself to buy Megumi a new bar of soap. She wouldn't recommend anyone else using that bar of soap anytime soon…

            "Let's see…the directions say…apply _GENEROUS_ amounts of shampoo and lather into hair. Rinse and _repeat." Misao snickered. She'd do just that. As she worked the fragrant, pinkish shampoo into her hair her thoughts returned to her mission. Aoshi was going to be very happy to see her again, clean nonetheless, or so she hoped. She still couldn't understand why he had left the Aoiya five years ago in the first place. All she remembered were arguments, brooding, and much meditation between her Jiya and Aoshi. Then the Aoiya had floundered business wise as the Shirobeko upped the competition and Jiya was just too old to keep up the high maintenance restaurant. Then, three months ago, Jiya had died, leaving her with cryptic words and an equally puzzling message to deliver to Aoshi. Four weeks ago, she had ditched her aunt and uncle to travel to Tokyo. She'd hoofed it, not taking the risk of getting caught by her uncle by taking the train. _

            Compared to the long, humid nights she'd spent crouched along the roads this tiny apartment was a slice of heaven. She'd traveled to Tokyo and on her first night there, Misao had come across the Beshimi and Takani Megumi. It had to have been more than coincidence. Misao had never been superstitious, but perhaps Beshimi was looking out for her, wherever he was.

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            "Explain this to me again: what does etiquette, and my looks have to do with hustling people?" Misao grumpily balked as she shoveled food into her mouth. Megumi had provided her with some brunch consisting of a western styled breakfast—pancakes, toast, orange juice, eggs and milk—something Misao had rarely eaten before. Growing up in the Aoiya, she had grown accustomed to traditional breakfasts, but this was a welcome change. 

            "It's important because you want people to underestimate you. For people to underestimate you, you have to look the part." Megumi had begun to try and comb through the huge knot in Misao's hair. She had finally learned the weasel's name was Makimachi Misao—and was dismayed to find such pretty inky hair was a jungle of tangles and knots. 

            "So if I act stupid, won't that work the same way? Why do I hafta get all dressed up and everything?" Misao spread some strawberry jam over the toast, delighting in its dark red color and the way it sparkled under the light.

            "Probably, but it's easier to trick men if you're pretty and all demure. I don't like it either but I'll do almost anything—not anything, but almost—for extra cash. Your hair as got to go…" Megumi scowled. Misao had used almost all of her conditioner and it hadn't helped much—and being that it was still wet—it was an ideal time to cut Misao's hair. She grabbed her trusty scissors and began to cut.

            Misao lurched into her breakfast, and swore. How the hell would Aoshi recognize her if she cut her hair? Unacceptable! However, feeling a breeze by her face, she looked down to see a whole side of her hair chin length and wet inky strands on the floor.

            "HOLY SHIT—what the hell did you do to my hair???"

            "You're the one that moved—don't blame me!"

            "I didn't ask for you to _cut it!"_ Misao shrieked half her head had waist length hair, and the other half was short…really short…

"Well those KNOTS aren't gonna come out ANYTIME soon! Calm down…I can salvage this." Misao shifted uneasily into her seat. Upon closer inspection, it hadn't been _half her head, but closer to a quarter or something. From what she could feel, it was in a jagged line due to her lurching. Relaxing a bit, she ripped out a huge portion of her toast. Her head was lighter, and it felt odd. _

            Megumi already had a cute hairstyle in mind, but judging from Misao's earlier reaction—she wouldn't be allowed to do it without leaving a portion of her hair intact. The knots in Misao's hair were off to the side, and Megumi supposed it would be easier to hack off the sides of Misao's hair and leave the rest in place. She snipped.

            "What the hell!!!!" Megumi ignored Misao's cries of disbelief and stuffed some more toast into her mouth. 

            "Quiet. If you don't want to end up bald, stop thrashing around!"

            Misao pouted. 

            Maybe she was better off in her coffin box motel.

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            "Okay. I don't know how good you were at math, but probability is gonna play a major role in hustling somebody and bettering your chances at gambling." Megumi drawled in a bored manner. Misao yawned and played with the ends of her new braid. In the end, she had liked this new hairstyle in which a series of layered chin-length bangs tapered off into a braid. 

            "Math's easy. Probability's even easier." Misao scowled. It was well known that Asians were good at math—and while she had probably been one of the exceptions, she wasn't about to let Megumi know that. Besides, probability _was easy. _

            "Good, then this'll be a good review. In dice, since there are two dice how many possible outcomes are there?"

            "Duh, thirty-six." 

            "And how many out of thirty-six, are you gonna be able to get a 7?"

            "One-twelfth.."  
            "…one-twelfth isn't too bad, but it isn't great either--Which is why we stay away from dice games that ask for a particular number unless we have a …"special dice". Got it?" Megumi threw a sharp glare towards Misao, who winced.

            "Why?"

            "If you're not sure you can win—it's better not to gamble with dice. Dice are very fickle, and unless you know how to roll them correctly and discreetly, you're screwed." Misao frowned unhappily. Wasn't Megumi supposed to _teach her how to do all these things?_

            "Why can't I learn how to roll them now?"      

            "Because I said so—and it takes a lot of practice so that you're not terribly noticeable." Megumi looked as if that were the most obvious answer in the world and pat Misao's head gently. "Don't worry. I'll take you to dice games soon enough and you'll see what I mean."

            Misao was not appeased but she held her tongue in check. She didn't like Megumi's superior tone, and complete ignorance of her kunai skills. Still, she watched aptly as Megumi pulled out a small silver ball that looked like it belonged in a flashy pachinko machine. 

            "What the hell is that?"

            "This—my friend is what they use in roulette. It weighs approximately 3 oz. Judging by that weight and the rotation of the roulette machine—which at its fastest spins one rotation every 1.2 seconds and at its slowest one rotation every 5 seconds—you'll be able to predict where the ball will land every time, judging by where the guy drops the ball and the where the ball is when the wheel starts spinning. You can use this method with slot machines, although I wouldn't advise those."

            Misao stared blankly at Megumi. 

            "You lost me at three ounces." 

            Megumi sighed in frustration and began all over again. Apparently Misao was among the few people she'd known who flunked horribly at math. That could deeply hinder her skills as a hustler, seeing as how many calculations needed to be done fast.

            Perhaps assigning Misao 100 word problems a night without the use of a calculator might help.

-------------

            "Stand up straight and stop slouching!"

           Misao straightened her shoulders and grit her teeth. This was 100% stupid, ridiculous, absurd, bizarre, illogical, and idiotic training she'd ever done.

            "Step lightly and stop stomping!"

            Misao bit her tongue from lashing out at the critical doctor. _You try doing this in four inch heels…although, you probably can…_

            "Stop swinging your arms and for God's sake smile!" 

            "And just why is this important again? I'm not training to be the Empress of Japan!" Misao fumed and took down the three books balanced precariously on her head. She was a martial artist, balancing them had been easy! It was the way in which she balanced them that made Megumi mad.

            "So you can attract stupid men who think with their balls instead of their brain."

            "And just why do I want this again?" Megumi sighed. When she had proposed that they become partners, she didn't expect her to be THIS disagreeable and picky.

            "So you can con them out of their money. That and if you're not convincing you could run into trouble with yakuza members." Misao turned her face to a sharply serious Megumi.

            "Yazuka members?"

            "Yes, they frequent the Ginza district. You can distinguish them by their greasy hair and cheesy American rat pack suits. If one of them takes an interest in you it's a double edged sword." Misao's frown grew deeper as she realized Megumi was speaking from experience. She felt the need to question it, but stopped herself before the question blurted out of her mouth. It wouldn't be wise to piss off her only semi-friend in Tokyo.

            "When would one take in an interest in us? We're not prostitutes or geisha and for all they know we won't even be seen for a long time!" Megumi smiled a bit with a bitter look on her face.

            "It won't matter. In order to gain a living, we need to frequent the Ginza too. And while we're not geisha, do you really think it matters to them?"

            Misao gulped. She hadn't even considered the fact that she could get mixed up in something dangerous when she came to Ginza. With Megumi's dark face, Misao could distinguish that Megumi _had run into trouble. A vague feeling of awe swept through her as she understood that Megumi had wrestled her way out of trouble. Would Misao have enough cleverness and wit to outwit the yakuza too?_

            She wasn't sure she could.

            "You must have noticed I didn't teach you a thing about cards today." The sun had set a few hours ago. A long day of math, tricks, and basic overview of etiquette had kept Misao busy and she hadn't noticed.

            "Yeah, are we gonna learn that now?"

            "No, I'm not gonna teach you that," Misao opened her mouth to question, but was silenced as Megumi stuck a small piece of paper into her hand, "Go to this address and ask for a tanuki. She'll teach you if you tell her that a kitsune sent you. You can crash there tonight."

            "What? This place is at least an hour away! Its 9:00! It'd be rude!" Megumi arched an eyebrow and shook her head.

            "Don't worry. She'll be there trust me." Megumi handed Misao her duffel bag and shoved her out of the apartment. "I'll let her know you're on your way. Come back the day after tomorrow and I'll teach you some more." 

            Megumi smiled widely as she shut the door and walked over to her telephone, punching in a memorized phone number.

            "...Ken-san, I'm sorry—I've never heard of Mikagami Naoko…" 

            Megumi hated lying to the sweet red head, but he was in deep and if he went in any further, he'd drown. 

            Somewhere on the outskirts of Tokyo, outside the Kamiya Dojo, Himura Kenshin shut his cell phone. Megumi didn't know about Mikagami Naoko…but he was damn sure Kamiya Kaoru did.  

TBC…

AN: AHAHAHAHA…this chapter took a while because I didn't really know how to go about Megumi tutoring Misao or and I was anxious about my rusty math/probability skills. Gah…oh well. I think this chapter was a little bit boring, but not that it matters too much. Next chapter it gets interesting—really interesting. 

OH and what animal would you associate with Aoshi?????

That is very important!!!!!!

HELLLLP!

Next Chapter: A Rabid Tanuki's Secret

Asuka-chan—Thank you very much for the black jack tip and I'm glad you like this story…I was going for something…original and I'd never seen this done.

Kitsune—XD…I updated…happy? I'll see you in global tomorrow morning and we can sneeze and hate Dostoyevsky together.

Neko-Kitsune-gumi—Does it really? Oh well…it was the only way I could really stick her in the story without it being too weird…eventually I thought of a cool subplot involving her and Kenshin so it worked out because this fic is more Misao/Aoshi geared…but not really.

t.anjel—I DID!!! YAY!!!

Annihilation—I like the pen name…and I was honored that you thought I should continue. 

Ashcandy—its 118 dollars per yen…and I hate dry ups almost as much as people who can crank out good fic chapters every week…I always take too long…

ChunkyMunky241—Of course…the weasel and the fox will definitely run into Aoshi and Sano ^_~ as well as an appearance by a red haired dragon.

Himura Kamiya Kaoru—XD okay okay…I continued…your enthusiasm really inspires me sometimes…X)

Darkend Dreams-- ^^;; It's black jack and yeah, its probably the one you play on your sister's phone since it seems to be on a lot of phones…hehehe…its on my phone too…^^;


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